
Book.__^iMi2 
GcpightN? 



OSBoaam deposit. 








BY 



VERNON McGILL 








Grafton Publishing Corporation 
Los Angeles, California 






Copyrighted 
1922 

By 

VERNON McGILL 



MAR 2B 1922 



0)CiA661842 



FOREWORD 

If you have thought of driving across the con- 
tinent and have hesitated because of supposed 
dangers, don't hesitate any longer on that account. 
Anyone who can drive a car can make thq trip. It 
is not necessary to carry a gun. Women have made 
the journey alone. The mountain roads are not 
difficult nor dangerous. Only a little care is re- 
quired. Even the desert, at which many balk, is no 
more difficult than other parts of the trip. The 
road across the Mojave is fairly good, and I bid 
you join the ranks of the transcontinental motorists. 

The Author. 




A CINEMATOGRAPHl'C PANORAMIC PHANTASMAGORIA OF 
THE CONTINENT BETWEEN THESE TWO GREAT CITIES 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Foreword 5 

Diary of a Motor Journey 9 

Clinton, Iowa 15 

Marshalltown, Iowa : 18 

Omaha, Nebraska 22 

Hebron, Nebraska 23 

McPherson, Kansas 27 

Garden City, Kansas 33 

Las Animas, Colorado 37 

Trinidad, Colorado 43 

Las Vegas, New Mexico 49 

Santa Fe, New Mexico 54 

Belen, New Mexico 60 

Magdalena, New Mexico 63 

Springerville, Arizona 66 

Winslow, Arizona 69 

Flagstaff, Arizona 72 

Ash fork, A rizona 77 

Kingman, Arizona 80 

Needles, California 81 

Barstow, California „ 85 

Venice, California 88 

A few technical suggestions by the Chicago Motor Club.... 92 



ILLUSTRATIONS p.oe 

Chicago, Los Angeles and the continent 5 

Cinematographic sketches 1 

A cowpuncher who posed for a sketch 13 

Chicago to Los Angeles panorama. „ 14 

Cinematographic sketches — 1 7 

A disputed right of way 18 

Mountain vistas 19 

Cinematographic sketches 21 

On the sands of the great Mojave 22 

Cinematographic sketches ._ _ 25 

Female transcontinental motoring costumes 26 

Cowboys rounding up their herd 27 

Cinematographic sketches 29 

Threading our way through the rush hour traffic of Omaha 30 

Cowboy on a bucking broncho near Garden City, Kansas 32 

Kansas cowboy 33 

We were cowed on a Kansas road _ 35 

Cowgirl riding a bucking broncho 36 

An intruder in Colorado 37 

On the mountain crest 38 

Night .- 40 

Cajon Pass ~ 42 

Driving along the crest of the Rocky Mountains 43 

Johnosn Hill near Socorro, New Mexico 44 

Colorado 45 

Pulling up the grade at Blue Canyon 46 

The native salutation in an Indian village 47 

The Rocky Mountains 48 

The shades of night _ 49 

Inspecting an adobe built Indian home 50 

Two bell(e)s ^ 52 

The Sangre de Cristo Mountains 53 

The Art Museum at Santa Fe _ „ 54 

Hopi Indian Basket Dance 55 

The oldest church in America 56 

New Mexican Indian poses for a snapshot 57 

A barbaric Indian Dance at Santa Fe, New Mexico 58 

Crossing the Mojave Desert 59 

Going down Devil's Canyon Grade 60 

Quo Vadis? „.. 61 

Halted at night at civilization's outpost 63 

Arizona 64 

A mountain road througt the great mining district at Oatman 66 

Nature is wonderful but is overshadowed temporarily 67 

On the desert 69 

The San Francisco Mountains near Flagstaff 70 

The mountain detour outside of Williams, Arizona 73 

Some of the San Francisco peaks 75 

The sea gull and pelican brigade 76 

El Garges Hotel at Needles, California 80 

A giant cactus on the Mojave Desert 82 

Casa del Desierto, Harvey Hotel in the Mojave Desert at Barstow.... 85 

Hollywood 87 

Los Angeles at Seventh and Broadway 89 

Bathing beach at ocean front Venice, California 88 

Spading the flowers at San B'doo, California 91 

Route Map 92 and 93 

On the beach at Venice, California „... 94 



Diary of a Motor Journey from Chicago to 
Los Angeles — 

Our Party for the journey from Chicago to Los 
Angeles consisted of my wife, our daughter, aged 
twelve, and myself. In keeping the log of the over- 
land cruise I have endeavored to write a few im- 
pressions and embellish them with pen and ink 
sketches of picturesque scenes along the way. I 
have also kept a record of the entire cost of the 
trip, analyzed it and present it herewith so that 
anyone contemplating such a jaunt may gain some 
idea of the expense. I may say that we put up at 
the best hotels we could find in the cities and towns 
through which we passed, so you will see that the 
cost of the trip covers best accommodations. 

There is another way of motoring across the 
country which is less expensive, and that is with a 
camping outfit. Equipment for such a trip is now 
so efficiently arranged that it is easy to carry and 
requires but little space. On a camping tour one 
can use his car Pullman-berth fashion, or pitch his 
own tent at night. The majority of cross continent 
motorists travel this way, thus eliminating hotel 
room and meal expense as well as garage rental. 
Each town provides a free auto parking camp, with 
every convenience except private bath. 

Our car was a seven-passenger 1919 Wyllis 
Knight. The entire trip took 21 days, and one tire 
puncture was our only accident. A day and a half 
of the time was taken for sight-seeing, in which no 



Diary of a Motor Journey 11 



1 THE OPEN ROAD 

2 AN INDIAN H.^RVEST DANCE IN NEW 
MEXICO 

3 IN COLORADO 

4 A KANSAS COWBOY ROPING A STEER 

5 VEGETATION ON THE MOJAVE DESERT 

6 INDIAN PUEBLO NEAR SANTA FE, NEW 
MEXICO 

7 THE OPEN ROAD 

8 INDIAN WOMEN 

9 SOME NATIVES 

10 A HALT FOR REFRESHMENTS AT RATON 
PASS; TRINIDAD, COLORADO, in DISTANCE 

11 IN THE PETRIFIED FOREST OF ARIZONA 

12 ON THE MOJAVE DESERT 

13 GENERAL SIMPSON'S REST AT THE TOP OF A 
MOUNTAIN NEAR TRINIDAD 

14 SOME MOUNTAIN PASSES WE HAD TO CROSS 

15 THE CAJON PASS ROAD 



12 Diary of a Motor Journey 

driving en route was done. As a rule we did not 
start very early in the day, sometimes it was as late 
as 11 o'clock. Our stopping time depended largely 
on the town we happened to be passing through 
towards evening. If the accommodations looked in- 
viting, we called it a day. 

We drove slowly and easily, rarely going over 
20 to 22 miles an hour. Residents along the way 
were always obliging and willing to give informa- 
tion in regard to roads, etc. 

We covered in the entire trip 2633 miles. 

Our expenses were $235.77, divided as follows: 

Meals $ 87.41 

Hotel Rooms 68.50 

Gas 42.34 

Oil 17.60 

Garage Rent 8.15 

Sundry 11.77 

Total $235.77 

Our gas cost from 19 cents in Chicago all the 
way up to 50 cents per gallon in Springerville, Ari- 
zona. The high cost of gasoline in Springerville is 
accounted for by the fact that the town is more than 
100 miles from a railroad. 

I had the oil drained and the crank case refilled 
twice during the trip. Garage rent was usually 
50 cents per night except in the larger cities, where 



Diary of a Motor Journey 13 




A COWPUNCHER WHO POSED FOR A SKETCH 



14 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



it was 75 cents or a dollar. In some towns we 
saved garage rent by parking on Main Street for 
the night. The sundry items include repairs, movie 
theatre tickets, etc. 

Expenses for the party averaged eleven dollars 
a day. Gas cost one and three-fifths cents per mile, 
and oil cost 68 cents per hundred miles. 







A PANORAMA JOTTED DOWN WITH PEN AND INK 
ALONG THE WAY 



Diary of a Motor Journey 15 

Clinton, Iowa, Sunday, October 9, 1921. 

We left the Hotel Birchmont on the North Shore 
in Chicago, at 9 o'clock this (Sunday) morning. We 
proceeded south along the shore of Lake Michigan 
via Sheridan Road, Chicago's crack thorofare, pass- 
ing through a most wonderful residence district. 
We continued south through the Gold Coast section 
into Michigan Avenue to Washington Boulevard, 
where we turned the nose of our car straight w^est 
and in the direction we would keep it most of the 
way until we saw the sun set on the Pacific Ocean. 

The purring of our engine was the only sound 
we heard as we passed through the Sunday quiet of 
the man-made canyons of Chicago's loop district. 
The colossal, towering buildings let in a narrow 
strip of blue sky above us. Hurrying on we passed 
through the city's western suburbs, — W^heaton, 
Geneva, De Kalb and Sterling, emerging into a pic- 
turesque farming country. We rambled on through 
Morrison and Fulton, and arrived at Clinton at 
5 :45, where we anchored at the Hotel Lafayette for 
the night. 

The scenery is very beautiful around Fulton and 
Clinton, particularly in the vicinity of the bridge 
over the Mississippi at Fulton. The first day's run 
was made over wonderful roads. With the excep- 
tion of several miles of dirt and gravel, the entire 
distance was paved. The distance covered was 170 
miles. 



16 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




Diary of a Motor Journey 17 



1 THE OPEN ROAD 

2 A TOURIST, SKETCHED AT THE VARGES 
HOTEL, SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO 

3 THE OPEN ROAD 

4 DONKEY IN THE STREET AT SANTA FE 

5 THE PACIFIC 

6 A TOURIST HOTEL AT SANTA FE 

7 A CANYON ROAD 

8 AN INDIAN VILLAGE IN NEW MEXICO 

9 THE MINES AT OATMAN 
10 DEVIL'S CANYON ROAD 

M A MOJAVE INDIAN IN THE DESERT 



18 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




A DISPUTED RIGHT OF WAY 



Marshalltoimi, lozva, Monday, October 10, 1921. 

Left Clinton after an early breakfast at the Hotel 
Lafayette, and continued our journey over the 
Lincoln Highway which we had followed from 
Chicago. This highw^ay is well marked and can be 
followed from the signs without the aid of map or 
guide book. It is called "America's Main Street." 

Our route today lay through a prolific farming 
district. We made Marshalltown our objective and 
the roads seemed rather rough after the pavements 
of yesterday. They were, however, well dragged 
and we were able to make fairly good time. We 
arrived here about 6 o'clock and experienced some 
difficulty in finding sleeping accommodations. A 
convention of Redmen of the World was in full 
blast, and the three hotels w^hich the town boasts, 



Diary of a Motor Journey 19 

were all filled and had long waiting lists. Finally 
we pursuaded the proprietor of the Pilgrim House 
to let us have a reservation which he was holding 
for some Redmen. 

Marshalltown is a wild town tonight. The streets 
are filled with Indians in regulation costumes and 
with painted faces. The street scenes would delight 
the eye of a movie director. War whoops and cat 
calls echo and resound up and down Main Street, 
and we feel as if we were in a frontier town. Our 
speedometer shows that we have covered 169 miles 
today. 



MOUNTAIN VISTAS 



20 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




Diary of a Motor Journey 21 



1 SKETCH OF EQUESTRIENNES AT BEVERLY 
HILLS, CALIFORNIA 

2 PART OF BAJADA HILL GRADE 

3 A MOUNTAIN ASCENT 

4 THE SNOW COVERED SAN FRANCISCO 
MOUNTAINS 

5 A ROADSIDE SKETCH 

6 AN INDIAN SKETCHED AT SANTA FE 

7 A TOURIST 

8 TAKING THE ELEVATOR IN AN INDIAN 
VILLAGE 

9 A COLORADO ROAD 

10 THE OLDEST HOUSE IN AMERICA AT 
SANTA FE 



22 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



OrnaJuL, Nebraska, Tuesday, October 11, 1921. 

We slept little as the Indians made the night 
hideous with war whoops until daybreak. We left 
Marshalltown at 8 o'clock, still going west over the 
Lincoln Highway. The scenes today were those of 
a well groomed farming country. Late in the after- 
noon as we neared Council Bluffs, views of scenic 
splendor began to unfold themselves. The slanting, 
golden rays of the setting sun poured over the bluffs 
in front of us, reflecting from the roadway through 
our windshield in brilliant, blinding glare. As we 
reached the summit of the hills there lay before us 
a panoramic view of Council Bluffs, spread out in 
the distance in a purple haze, and Omaha, too, in 
the valley below, with the Missouri River like a rib- 
bon stretched between them. 

We threaded our way through the rush-hour 
traffic of Omaha, to the Fontenelle Hotel where we 
camped for the night. The day's run was 221 miles. 




ON THE SANDS OF THE GREAT MOJAVE 



Diary of a Motor Journey 23 

Hebron, Nebraska, Wednesday evening, 
October 12, 1921. 

We got a late start this morning and did not 
leave Omaha until after 10 o'clock. A few miles 
out we switched from the Lincoln Highway to the 
O. L. D., which means, Omaha, Lincoln and Den- 
ver Highway. The O. L. D. signboards still mark 
this route, but the road has been extended to De- 
troit and D. L. D. signboards are being substituted. 
We pulled into Lincoln, the capital of Nebraska, 
about 2 o'clock and tarried there for lunch. We 
also gave the town the once over. 

The capitol buildings with their imposing statue 
of Abraham Lincoln, are well worth seeing. At 
Fairmont we turned south on the Meridian High- 
way which is an excellent pavement. It differs 
from many city pavements in being perfectly sur- 
faced, level and smooth. It is a dirt road but a 
good one. I stated before that our average speed 
was a little over 20 miles per hour, but here on this 
highway, the average was raised considerably. 

The day has been bright with sunshine and the 
fields on either side were green and picturesque. A 
light, warm breeze wafted the scent of the fallow 
across the road which ran perfectly straight, with- 
out bend or curve, as far as the eye could see. 
There were no traffic cops and no traffic, so we 
broke the local speed laws. The car moved along 
from forty to fifty miles an hour, but it did not 



24 



Diary of a Motor Journey 





Diary of a Motor Journey 25 



1 THE ROAD THROUGH THE SANGRE DE CRIS- 
TO MOUNTAINS NEAR SANTA FE, NEW MEX- 
ICO 

2 and 3 THE OPEN ROAD 

4 and 5 IN THE CAJON PASS IN CALIFORNIA 

6 SKETCH AT EL GARCES HOTEL. NEEDLES; 
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER FROM IOWA ON 
THEIR WAY TO LOS ANGELES TO SPEND 
THE WINTER 

7 THE NEWS STAND, EL GARCES HOTEL, 

NEEDLES 

8 A HALT ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAINS IN 
ARIZONA TO SCAN THE DAZZLING AND RE- 
SPLENDENT VISTAS STRETCHING IN EVERY 
DIRECTION TO THE HORIZON 

9 ROADSIDE REFRESHMENTS 
10 THE OPEN ROAD 



26 Diary of a Motor Journey 

seem to be going so fast, so perfect was the road. 
We will long and gratefully remember the Meridian 
Highway. The houses along today's drive were 
fine, well kept and prosperous looking. Since morn- 
ing we have been heading south for the Santa Fe 
Trail, which we expect to hit tomorrow. At 7 
o'clock we registered here at Central Hotel for a 
night's lodging. Today's run was 163 miles. 




AT A TOURIST AUTO CAMP EN ROUTE; SOME OF THE 
FEMALE TRANSCONTINENTAL MOTORING COSTUMES 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



27 




COWBOYS ROUNDING UP THEIR HERD 



McPherson, Kansas, Thursday evening, 
October 13, 1921. 

At 4:45 this afternoon we drove into this town 
which is situated at the junction of Meridian High- 
way and the Santa Fe Trail. Through the morn- 
ing hours we had a hard, trying drive, for we had 
to combat a combination of hurricane and Kansas 
tornado. We were harassed by a wind which was 
hot and dusty and came directly at us from the 
front. It blew the dust into clouds, making it im- 
possible to see more than ten feet ahead. 

We had gotten an early start from Hebron by 
parking our car in the middle of Main Street, right 
in front of the hotel, and also saved one day's 
garage rental. As we pushed farther south the 
Meridian Highway became choppy and rough, mak- 
ing it necessary to drive carefully. We passed a 



28 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




Diary of a Motor Journey 29 



1, 5, 7, 10 and 11— THE OPEN ROAD 

2 and 3— PACKING FOR THE JOURNEY 

4 and 6— CALIFORNIA MISSIONS 

8 DOWNTOWN, LOS ANGELES 

9 FEEDING SOME FEATHERED FRIENDS 

12 THE BAJADA HILL 

13 VIEWING A TOWN IN COLORADO FROM THE 
MOUNTAINS 



30 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




THREADING OUR WAY THRU THE RUSH HOUR 
TRAFFIC OF OMAHA 



band of gypsies camped by the roadside, a carefree, 
gay and happy crew. They carried their effects in 
three large, canvas-covered wagons. We, too, heard 
the Romany call and decided to buy our lunch at 
the next village and eat it al fresco by the way. 
From a delicatessen in Concordia, we purchased 
sandwiches, cookies, cakes, etc., and had our Ther- 
mos bottle filled with hot coffee ; secured a bottle of 
milk from a passing milkman and answered the call 
to the open under the trees in the woods close by the 
highway. A hillside sheltered us from the wind- 



Diary of a Motor Journey 31 

storm, and we spread our luncheon on the green 
grass. The blue sky showed through the foliage 
above, where the slanting rays of the sun shone 
through. 

During the afternoon we rolled through one town 
after another. These western towns may not have 
long histories as the eastern ones have, yet, what 
they have is given publicity. The United States 
Tire signs, which are made in the form of an open 
book and placed at the entrance to each city or town, 
are instructive and interesting. They give a short 
history of the place one is entering. At the entrance 
of the town of Belvidere, we read the following : 

"When this town was on paper one of the incor- 
porators got up at a meeting and moved that the 
name of the town be called Belvidere, after his 
wife — it was carried." 

Mentioning signs, we noticed many ingenious 
publicity stunts. One sign read : 

"Yes, dear, I will get some gasoline at 

garage." 

In "seeing America first" along this route, one 
passes many points of historical interest. Today we 
passed the stamping ground of the famous scout, 
Kit Carson, and at another point a sign called our 
attention to a place where General Custer battled 
with the Indians. The whole day's run has been 
interesting, and we covered 142 miles. 




COWBOY ON A BUCKING BRONCHO NEAR 
GARDEN CITY, KANSAS 



Diary of a Motor Journey 33 




KANSAS COWBOY 

Garden City, Kansas, Friday evening, 
October 14, 1921. 

We parked our car last night in McPherson's 
Main Street. At 8 o'clock this morning as our bag- 
gage was being stored away in the car by the porter 
of the hotel, a tough looking individual, loafing in 
front of the hostelry, volunteered this information : 

"Don't youse folks know that cars are stole every 
night from these streets ? I see by the Chicago label 
on your car that you come from my home town. 
I lived on West Madison Street," and before he had 
jfinished we knew his life's history. On the high- 
way everybody is the tourist's friend. 

The morning was clear and bright and the sun 
very warm even at that time of day. We left Mc- 
Pherson over the Santa Fe Trail and turned west 



34 Diary of a Motor Journey 

again toward the Land of the Setting Sun. The 
town is clean, attractive and prosperous looking, 
very similar to the other towns and villages that 
we pass through every half hour or so. They all 
have their Main Street and their scattered residence 
district. 

The Santa Fe Trail is a hard clay highway, level 
and smooth as a city pavement, but we found as 
we sped along that the towns were getting farther 
and farther apart, until in the early afternoon we 
found ourselves out in the vast expanse of the great 
American prairies. In all that boundless space the 
eye could not see a tree : not even a bush was visible. 
One's vision seemed to cover hundreds of miles and 
the view was magnificent. When we stopped the 
car the stillness seemed uncanny. No living thing 
was to be seen or heard, with the exception of sev- 
eral huge birds which swooped past us. They were 
bigger than turkeys and we wondered what they 
might be. It is possible they were buzzards. Later 
in the afternoon we passed houses, miles apart, and 
fields that were cultivated in open ranges. From 
time to time we passed groups of cowboys herding 
their cattle by the side of the highway. In appear- 
ance they conformed to every movie standard. 

Tonight, sitting in the lobby of the Winsor Hotel 
here in Garden City, I gathered much information 
about Kansas from the occupants of the easy chairs. 
I learned that Kansas is the country of red barns, 
red cheeked girls and ready money. It is the gran- 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



3S 




WE WERE COWED ON A KANSAS ROAD 



36 Diary of a Motor Journey 

ary of the nation. More than $800,000,000 pour 
into Kansas yearly in payment for its farm prod- 
ucts. Minerals and oil also bring a steady stream 
of money into the state. 

I would like to describe the sunset on the prairie 
as we neared Garden City this evening, but it sur- 
passes my power of description. The run today was 
an even 200 miles. 






r;i 



J'- 2k^ V ( 



V 




t 



'^"'^'"W w 



A cow GIRL RIDING A BUCKING BRONCHO AT 
GARDEN CITY, KANSAS 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



37 




AN INTRUDER IN COLORADO 



Las Animas, Colorado, Saturday evening, 
October 15, 1921. 

After a very good breakfast at the Winsor Hotel 
in Garden City, I took the car over to the nearest 
fining station to get its daily ration of gas, oil and 
water. I could not find the proper oil so had to 
scour Main Street for it. At last I located some 
that was suitable at a hardware store, had all of the 
old oil drained out as I had driven more than a 
thousand miles since it was last drained. After 
shooting the old oil over the springs, steering gear 
and shackle bolts as per directions, the car purred 
smoothly back to the hotel. There I found a little 
reception committee, composed of the hotel porter, 
my wife and daughter, with the baggage all lined 



38 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



up on the sidewalk, awaiting me and ready for the 
day's start. After being duly reprimanded for the 
long time it took to get the car, we were soon on 
our way. 

Just out of Garden City they were doing work 
on the Santa Fe Trail and we started the day with 
a long detour over a sandy and rather rough road 
which made travel heavy. We were unable to make 
much time, for detours, sand and rough roads were 
encountered for the whole day. 

We crossed the Colorado state line before noon, 
but not before we had set our watches back one 
hour to conform with standard time. Mountain 
time begins at Dodge City, Kansas, and thus our 
day was lengthened sixty minutes. 

We had lunch at the Harvey Restaurant at Syra- 
cuse. Up to this, the seventh day of the trip, the 




ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP 



Diary of a Motor Journey 39 

weather has been fine, sunshiny and clear and very 
hot. The country through which we sped today 
was similar to that in southern Kansas, a flat prairie 
country with few houses and small towns at long 
distances. The towns and country are typically 
western. In one of the towns today we saw the 
sign, 'The West Begins Here.'' We secured 
some snapshots and sketches of cowboys and cattle 
scenes along the way. 

We found the people friendly and apparently they 
like to have tourist cars pass through their towns. 
Such signs as follow were displayd at various 
places : 

^Welcome," ''Hurry Back," "Come Again," 
"Good Bye and Good Luck," "Good Bye and God 
Bless You." 

Many who speak to us along the way remark on 
the Chicago sign on the car. They have been in 
Chicago or are going there; have friends living 
there. But, to get back to the day's run. 

This day we encountered the worst roads we have 
found so far. Often the roads were so sandy that 
ten miles was the limit. Some roads were rough 
and others under repair. It was quite dark before 
we reached Las Animas, and we had some difficulty 
in picking our way, even with the searchlight on. 
The earth was very dry, and if we met a car or 
lumbering wagon, the lights would not penetrate the 
dust. We were not familiar with the road and the 
dark, dusty atmosphere was bewildering. 



40 Diary of a Motor Journey 




NIGHT 



About fifteen miles from Las Animas we were 
stopped by; a pile of lumber and dirt across the en- 
tire roadway. On making an investigation with our 
hand flashlight, we discovered a sign which read: 
"Bridge down — Road closed." By this time the 
night was inky black and we had planned to make 
Las Animas during daylight hours, but had not 
allowed for bad roads. If there were any stars in 
the sky they were obscured from our view by the 
dust. No lights were visible anywhere. Rolling 
prairies were on either side and a closed road in 
front of us. What were we to do? 

Further search disclosed a detour down a steep 
bank which would have been hazardous in broad 
daylight. This detour led to a river bed which was 
nearly dry, across the river bed and up a steep bank 



Diary of a Motor Journey 41 

on the other side to the roadway. My wife went 
ahead with the hand flashHght, pointing the way. 
The flash could not be seen from the car on account 
of the sharp turns, but I put the lever in first gear 
and with a tight grip on the brakes started down 
the bank in the Stygian darkness. We partly 
skidded and slid to the bottom. A rustling in the 
bushes brought highwaymen to mind, but we finally 
got safely up to the road on the other side, only to 
encounter several miles of new gravel. 

We passed several more such detours before we 
saw the welcome lights of Las Animas. Close to 
the town we passed many cars and wagons driven 
by Mexicans. Driving into the town we were im- 
pressed by the crowds on the streets and the great 
number of cars parked solidly on both sides of the 
thorofare. Of course it is Saturday night and this 
doubtlessly counts for the great number and their 
gaiety. Besides the many Mexicans there are sol- 
diers and sailors in uniform, as there is an army 
camp and naval hospital near here. 

We were able to secure rooms for the night at 
the Palace Hotel, and have parked the car at the 
entrance on Main Street. At dinner the waitress 
explained that Las Animas in Spanish means "lost 
souls." 'The town is called *the city of lost souls' 
and believe me, that's right," volunteered our in- 
former. 

We expect to make only a short run tomorrow as 
it will be Sunday. Today's mileage was 143. 



42 Diary of a Motor Journey 




RAION PASS 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



43 




DRIVING ALONG THE CREST OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 

Trinidad, Colorado, Sunday evening, 
October 16, 1921. 

We left Las Animas at 9:30 this morning. On 
leaving *'the city of lost souls" we remarked on the 
difference in appearance of the town in broad day- 
light. Gone was the gaiety and the crowd of the 
night before, and all that w^as left to give animation 
to the scene was a single Mexican strolling leisurely 
between the two rows of straggling shacks which 
composed Main Street. 

Just out of town we came to a temporary bridge, 
the old one having been washed away by the Pueblo 
flood last spring. The bridge looked shaky. It did 
not look as if it would stand up under the weight of 



44 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



our car. I got out to look it over and found an old 
man also looking at it. 

"Is it safe?" I inquired, being somewhat doubtful 
and wanting some assurance. 

**I was just wondering if it was, and was waiting 
around to see," he replied, and appeared interested 
in our projected ride over it. 

It creaked and bent a little under the weight, but 
we got safely over and were soon following the 
Trail which today paralleled the Santa Fe Railway. 
The road was rough and choppy and in places was 
soft and sandy, so we were able to make only very 
slow time. The drive for most part was through a 
barren prairie, similar to a desert. There was very 




JOHNSON HILL NEAR SOCORRO, NEW MEXICO 



Diary of a Motor Journey 45 




COLORADO 



46 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




PULLING UP THE GRADE AT BLUE CANYON 



little cultivated land and very few trees. The day 
was hot and the alkali dust blew up in clouds. Early 
this morning we could see the blue outlines of the 
Rocky Mountains to westward, but it was 5 :30 
when we reached Trinidad, after climbing a wind- 
ing, mountain road. We found here the most pic- 
turesque city we have seen on our way. It is 
perched high up and nestles in the mountains, 
hemmed in by gigantic peaks on all sides. We 
drove up to the Columbian Hotel just at dusk and 
put up for the night. On the sidewalk outside the 
hotel was an old man selling papers, his long hair 
was white as were also his long, thin whiskers. 
Over one arm he carried his stock in trade. A cane 
in the other hand supported his bent and shaking 
form, but he had a publicity stunt for selling papers 
which I had never heard of. He sang to a very 
tuneful air the names of the sheets he had on sale : 
"Pueblo Examiner and Rocky Mountain News." 
It drew attention and we all picked up the air. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



47 



Trinidad boasts at least one traffic cop. He is 
stationed at the busiest street corner. On arriving 
at this corner you must bring your car to a full stop. 
The city ordinance says you must signal with the 
horn which way you want to turn. To turn one 
way you must blow once, to turn the other way it is 
necessary to blow it twice. 

Tonight from one of the highest pinnacles there 
stands out against the sky in huge electric lighted 
letters, the word, "Trinidad." It is an inspiring 
sight. 

Our run todav covered 116 miles. 








•^ 



THE NATIVE SALUTATION IN AN INDIAN VILLAGE IN 
ARIZONA; "LADY,— NICE POTTERY, ONLY TWO BITS" 



48 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



4^ 




THE SHADES OF NIGHT 



Las Vegas, New Mexico, Monday evening, 
October 17, 1921. 

We got an early start from Trinidad this morn- 
ing, leaving there at 8:30. Almost immediately 
after leaving the city we were in the Rocky Moun- 
tains, going up a winding road of easy grade. We 
passed the state line into New Mexico a few miles 
out. The grade to Raton Pass starts just outside 
of Trinidad and rises for four miles. The road 
then runs along the crest of the mountains for four 
miles. There is rather a sharp descent into the town 
of Raton. The road is excellent, in fact is paved 
all the way through this famous pass. The scenery 
is grand, majestic, magnificent. I cannot begin to 
describe the splendor of the colossal peaks which 



50 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



tower one behind the other in endless number. We 
could look for miles down the valley below us and 
there were sheer drops of hundreds of feet from 
the sides of the road over which we carefully drove 
the car. There are thrills in this mountain run at 
every turn. Warning signs greet one continuously. 
''Danger, sharp curve ahead," ''Dangerous cross 
road. Sound your horn." And this road reminded 
us of Kipling's description of moving artillery 
across the mountains in India : 

"One wheel on the edge of the mountain, 
And one on the edge of the pit, 
And a drop into nothing below it. 
As straight as a beggar could spit." 




INSPECTING AN ADOBE BUILT INDIAN HOME 



Diary of a Motor Journey 51 

Our car was often in a similar position. The 
driver must keep his eye steadfastly on the road and 
consequently misses much of the wonderful scenery. 

We passed through the town of Raton and 
through several other towns and villages, and dur- 
ing this afternoon we encountered the worst roads 
we have yet found. In fact I never saw a worse 
road anywhere. It is the champion bad road and 
there is about ten miles of it. It lies between 
Wagon Mound and Watrous. 

It starts out with very soft silt, into which the 
wheels sink hub deep at times. Underneath this 
silt there are sharp stones of various sizes over 
which the car bumps from one to another. After 
five or six miles this so-called road develops into a 
very rocky trail which twists in serpentine fashion 
across a rolling prairie. It seemed as if all the 
rocks in the vicinity had been collected and strewn 
along the way so that cars could have a regular 
series of bumps. Mayhap the tire manufacturers 
are in conspiracy with the road supervisor of this 
district. The trail led up over a fair sized mountain 
which was covered with extra large rocks with 
jagged edges, that constantly tore at the tires. But 
large rocks, middle size rocks or small rocks, it was 
impossible to escape them. We could move only at 
a crawling pace. It is inconceivable that this part 
of the great trans-continental highway, the Santa 
Fe Trail, over which hundreds of motorists pass 
daily, should continue in such condition. A little 



52 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



work at removing the stones would make a great 
difference in this stretch. Spots like this emphasize 
the necessity for a National Ocean to Ocean Trans- 
continental Paved Highway. Motorists are long- 
suffering, but I think that very many roads like 
this would make them rise up and demand that the 
Federal Government build a suitable highway across 
the continent. 

We found a fairly good road the last twenty 
miles into Las Vegas, where we arrived at 5 :30 in 
the afternoon, after a dav's run of 140 miles. 




SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO; THE OLDEST AND THE NEW- 
EST BELL(E) IN THE UNITED STATES. BROTHER DAVID, 
THE PADRE AT THE SAN MIGUEL CHURCH, EXPLAINED 
THAT THE ST. JOSEPH BELL IS THE OLDEST CHURCH BELL 
IN AMERICA 



Diary of a Motor Journey S3 




THE SANGRE DE CRISTO MOUNTAINS 



54 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



^i^. 




■^^"»lA§|^^«^:|^__ 







THE ART MUSEUM AT SANTA FE, TYPICAL OF LOCAL 
STYLE OF ARCHITECTURE 



Santa Fe, Nezv Mexico, Tuesday evening, 
October 18, 1921. 

We arrived in this historic place, the oldest city 
in the United States, at 3 o'clock this afternoon. 
The city marks the end of the Santa Fe Trail and 
is so advertised on hotel letterheads, etc. With an 
exception of the last twelve miles, the roads between 
this point and Las Vegas are rather rough. The 
latter part of the road through the Sangre de 
Cristo Mountains is excellent, for it is a hard- 
surfaced highway. These mountains contain some 
of the highest peaks in America, one peak rising 
to the height of 13,000 feet, and the scenery is 
magnificent. 

Curves in this road are very sharp and the grades 
are very steep in places, making it necessary to 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



0.-5 



drive with great care as one false turn would send 
the car rolling down the mountain side. 

There is an old world atmosphere in Santa Fe. 
As one walks through the streets or the Palace of 
the Governors, he is reminded that these same walls 
echoed the tread of Spanish cavaliers in clinking 
armor more than three centuries ago. From point 
of continuous historical record, this city antedates 
St. Augustine, Florida, and on every side some- 
thing is called to one's attention as being the ''oldest 
in the United States." The glory and the fame of 
this town depends on its antiquity. Santa Fe does 
not aspire to modern things. Its architecture is a 
combination of Indian Pueblo and early Spanish 
style. Many of the buildings are splendid speci- 
mens of this happy combination. Here, too, is the 





-^i^ 







M \ 



HOPI INDIAN BASKET DANCE 



56 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




A SKETCH AT SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO; IN FOREGROUND 
NEWEST GOWN IN THE UNITED STATES; IN BACKGROUND 
THE OLDEST CHURCH IN THE UNITED STATES, THE SAN 
MIGUEL CHURCH 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



57 




THIS NATIVE NEW MEXICAN EVEN IF HE DID NOT 
SELL ANY OF HIS INDIAN BLANKETS WAS PLEASANT 
ENOUGH TO TAKE A SMILING POSE FOR A SNAP SHOT FOR 
"TWO BITS." THIS WAS THE INDIAN MARKET PRICE FOR 
SNAP SHOT EXPOSURE. 



center of a new school of art, for there is a some- 
what pretentious colony of artists located here and 
at Taos. 

The plan of the town is Spanish, with central 
Plaza and narrow streets. The Catholic church of 
San Miguel is the oldest church edifice in the 
United States. The priest of the parish conducted 
us through the ancient structure, carefully pointing 
out the oldest church bell in the United States, 
which had been cast in Spain. He showed us the 
spot at the altar under which Varges, the oldest 
Spanish Governor, was buried. Across the alley 
from the church he showed us the oldest house in 
America. He told us some of the most ancient jokes 
in the United States, and we were glad to get out- 



58 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



side once more and see some of the oldest sunshine 
in the United States. We walked down the oldest 
street in the United States and went into a res- 
taurant which looked very modern, but we sus- 
pected that we were served some of the oldest 
chicken in the United States. 

The fifty miles square around Santa Fe com- 
prises the most interesting area of that size in 
America. In this area are found the homes of the 
ancient Cliff Dwellers. Their communal houses 
sometimes contained as many as a thousand rooms. 
The builders of the colossal modern hotels of a 
thousand rooms, are not starting anything new, for 
this mode of living was in vogue in communal 
houses long ago. This district was the center of 
the prehistoric population of America, and while the 




A BARBARIC INDIAN DANCE AT SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO 
THE BUILDING IN THE BACKGROUND IS THE PALACE OF 
THE GOVERNORS, OVERLOOKING THE PLAZA. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 59 

entire history of this ancient race has not yet been 
unearthed, enough has been found to assure us that 
this was the site of a prehistoric metropoHs. 

We halted a day in this interesting city for sight- 
seeing. The influence of Spanish occupancy is still 
felt; the old families still use the Spanish language 
and commercial houses use both Spanish and Eng- 
lish. The Indian city of Taos, near by, is the cen- 
ter of Indian culture. The natives live as they did 
many centuries ago without any of the modern im- 
provements. It is an artistic center and a very in- 
teresting spot. 

At the Varges Hotel where we are living during 
our stay in Santa Fe, we have met many noted 
people. It is quite a Mecca for tourists and among 
them we find several lecturers who are gathering 
data for discourses on Indian lore and cliff dwell- 
ing, some artists who are sketching or painting the 
region, a Burton Holmes camera man who is mak- 
ing a series of motion pictures, and many other in- 
teresting people. 

The run from Las Vegas to Santa Fe was 77 
miles. 




CROSSING THE MOJAVE DESERT 



60 Diary of a Motor Journey 




DESCENDING DEVIL'S CANYON GRADE 

Belen, New Mexico, Thursday evening, 
October 20, 1921. 

We left Santa Fe about 9 :30 this morning. We 
came away from the city of Holy Faith reluctantly, 
and the memory of it will long linger with us. The 
last sign that we saw on the mountain road as we 
reached the city limits, was: ''Good Bye — Good 
Luck— God Bless You." 

We headed southwest towards the mountains on 
the Albuquerque road. Eighteen miles out we 
passed over the Bajada Hill. We had discussed the 
difficulties of this route and had been warned by 
tourists to beware of Bajada Hill, as it was the 
most risky and hazardous grade we would en- 
counter. True, it proved to be the steepest grade 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



61 




QUO VADIS? 



62 Diary of a Motor Journey 

we have so far met. The altitude of the top of the 
mountain is 8,000 feet above sea level, and the base 
has an elevation of 3,500 feet. From top to bot- 
tom the descent is very rapid. It is more than 
quick. One feels as if the car were going to fall 
over into the curve in the road below, but one is out 
of this curve and into the next one so quickly that 
no time would be gained by falling. The road 
winds down the mountain side in a series of hairpin 
curves and looks like a snake in motion. Twisting 
and turning we kept getting lower and lower, and 
as the road is very narrow and the turns very sharp, 
unless one drives carefully he may have to back up 
to get around some of the curves if he is driving a 
big car. There are 48 curves in this road from the 
top of the hill to the bottom, and the distance is but 
one and a half miles. 

From the foot of the hill we pushed forward over 
fair roads to Albuquerque, where we arrived about 
one o'clock. For ten miles before we reached the 
city we found the road well paved. After lunch in 
this, New Mexico's largest city, we continued over 
good roads to Belen, New Mexico, where we are 
staying for the night. The Geographies give Belen 
a population of 2000, but all we could see in this 
town were several stores, a movie theatre and a 
Fred Harvey restaurant at the Santa Fe station. 

The day's run was 99 miles. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 63 




HALTED AT NIGHT AT CIVILIZATION'S OUTPOST 

Magdalena, Nezv Mexico, Friday evening, 
October 21, 1921. 

After breakfast at Harvey's at Belen, we again 
headed westward. The road ran through a country 
partly mountainous and partly prairie. Now we 
would be running along the top of a mountain on a 
tableland, and again we would be rolling along a 
dry river bottom. The country was mostly barren 
with very little cultivation. Here and there were 
herds of cattle and goats. Every now and then we 
would pass a group of Indians beside the highway. 
The land was mostly a sandy waste with green 
hummocks scattered over it. Occasionally there 
were bunches of palmetto and cactus. During the 
day we passed a dead rattlesnake and several skele- 
tons of animals. 

Crossing the Rio Grande we found ourselves on 



64 Diary of a Motor Journey 




ARIZONA 



Diary of a Motor Journey 65 

an upgrade which passed through an Indian village 
of adobe houses and on into the mountains. The 
grade developed into a steep ascent, called Fisher's 
Hill. At the top was an amazing view of valley, 
mountain and plain. The descent was very pre- 
cipitous and is called Johnson's grade, outrivalling 
Bajada Hill. 

We stopped at Socorro for mid-day lunch, and a 
short distance out of the village we started up an- 
other mountain road which led into Devil's Canyon. 
We found this the most difficult of the mountain 
roads so far, principally on account of the many 
stones in it. We agree that Devil's Canyon was 
rightly named, for it is a devil of an automobile 
ride through it. The road was narrow, winding 
and treacherous, and the grade took us up a mile 
and a half in the air. But we continued over moun- 
tain and through valley passes for twenty miles 
before we reached Magdalena. 

This is a mining town completely surrounded by 
mountains. On a rock in the side of one of the 
mountains appears the likeness of a face of a 
woman, and the early settlers believing it to be a 
picture of Mary Magdalene, named the town Mag- 
dalena. 

Today's run was 77 miles. 



66 Diary of a Motor Journey 




e^ 



,'"'' /■' 



A MOUNTAIN ROAD THROUGH THE GREAT MINING 
DISTRICT AT O ATM AN, ARIZONA 



Spring erville, Arizona, Saturday evening, 
October 22, 1921. 

We left Magdalena at 8 :45 this morning, emerg- 
ing immediately into rolling prairie land. The 
roads were fairly good but the country was sterile 
and covered with sagebrush and cactus. We soon, 
however, encountered very bad roads which con- 
tinued on past Datil, where we crossed the con- 
tinental divide about noon. We crossed the Arizona 
state line about 5 :30, and drove into Springerville 
about 7 p. m., when it had become quite dark. This 
town is more than 100 miles from any railroad, 
consequently all prices are high. Here we were 
charged fifty cents per gallon for our gas and the 
prices of other things were in proportion. 

A Saturday Night Dance was on at the Apache 
Tavern where we are staying for the night. There 



Diary of a Motor Journey 67 




NATURE IS WONDERFUL BUT IS OVERSHADOWED 
TEMPORARILY AT TIMES 



68 Diary of a Motor Journey 

were no Apache Indians at the dance, although they 
belong to the oldest families living in that neighbor- 
hood. The cowboys and their girls came in from 
a radius of more than fifty miles, some on horse- 
back and some in automobiles. Some of the cow- 
boys carried guns in their hip pockets and some 
wore them slung on their belts in front. Most of 
them were large handled guns, some looked like 
small cannon. The guns jumped around with them 
when they danced the foxtrot, but there was no 
shooting so far as we saw. Although they had hard 
faces and strutted with a defiant, devil-may-care at- 
titude, the dance passed off peaceably. 

I asked my tourist friend from Kansas City, who 
was also driving through to Los Angeles and whom 
we had passed on the road once or twice during the 
past week, if he thought we were safe in this town. 
He had caught up with us again here in Springer- 
ville and assured me that the cowboys were peace- 
able and friendly, but had to carry guns as they 
rode the open ranges. He said he had driven 
through and stopped in this town on several pre- 
vious occasions. 

The day's run was 134 miles. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



69 




ON THE DESERT 



IVinslow, Arizona, Sunday evening, 
October 23, 1921. 

We left Springerville this morning with the im- 
pression that it was a very wild and wooly, western 
town. Picturesque groups of cowboys galloped 
down the main street, disturbing the Sunday quiet 
with an occasional yell of, ''EE-YOW!" They 
were all in regulation dress with full equipment, 
their guns being well exposed. They seemed to be 
taking a day off and were endeavoring to demon- 
strate to onlookers just how tough they were. The 
town being just outside the pale of civilization on 
account of being so far away from a railroad, per- 
haps has some excuse for its air of wildness. 

The drive today led through a rolling prairie dis- 
trict with some mountains and canyons. We passed 
many Apache Indians along the way, and about 
noon we stopped for an hour at the Petrified Forest 



70 Diary of a Motor Journey 




SAN FRANCISCO MOUNTAINS NEAR FLAGSTAFF 



Diary of a Motor Journey 71 

near Holbrook. This is at once a strange and mar- 
velous sight. We were quite fascinated. Trees of 
all sizes and turned to stone, were scattered around. 
The stone is of beautiful colorings, red, blue, yel- 
low and gold, with multitudes of wonderful tints 
and shades. The bark and wood were all intact. 
In ages past these trees had been turned into chal- 
cedony, topaz, carnelian, agate and amythest. On 
looking over the ground we could well imagine it a 
vast jewelry store. It is said that this marvelous 
transformation took place before Adam's time. 
Through eons the sybaritic chemistry of nature 
worked on these ancient trunks, and with astound- 
ing results. The mountains around gave a weird 
background to this strange scene. They were of a 
chalky white color, streaked with red and blue. 
The earth was formed in such shapes as to give 
an illusion of massive buildings with pillars and 
buttresses. It looked like some imperial city of an- 
cient times crumbling to decay. 

The scene shifted to barren country as we moved 
on to Winslow. This town is misnamed, however, 
for the wind certainly is not *1ow" tonight. It 
howls and blows with ever increasing violence. 

Today's run was 133 miles. 



72 Diary of a Motor Journey 

Flagstaff, Arizona, Monday evening, 
October 24, 1921. 

By morning the high wind of last night had be- 
come a hurricane, accompanied by thunder and 
lightning. We were held up at Winslow by the 
rain and did not get under way until after one 
o'clock. Consequently, we covered only 69 miles 
today. 

We started out over the National Old Trails 
Highway, with all the curtains fastened tight. The 
leaden sky was covered along the horizon with 
black, rolling clouds. They were rolling towards 
us and the wind was blowing a gale, but rain had 
dwindled to a drizzle. The roadway was a sea 
of mud. 

The garage man at Winslow had informed us 
before starting that word had been received from 
Flagstaff that the mountain passes through which 
we must go, were covered with three inches of snow 
that had fallen during the night. We hesitated at 
first but eventually decided to make a try for Flag- 
staff. We were told that we would most likely have 
to turn back, but might possibly get through. 
Everyone we spoke to about the roads and the 
weather, were just about as cheerful, so we started 
out with some doubts and misgivings. 

Old man Gloom rode this morning right along 
with us. We were glum. The car went plowing 
through the mud with a squdgy sound. We were 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



73 




THE MOUNTAIN DETOUR OUTSIDE OF WILLIAMS, ARIZONA 



nearly stuck fast several times, but with manouver- 
ing and straining we managed to pull out. I had 
noticed at the Public Auto Camp at Winslow this 
morning that only about half the tourists' cars had 
pulled out, and now I could see the reason. 

We encountered some difficult detours, but 
crawled slowly along for some thirty miles, when 
the San Francisco mountains near Flagstaff, be- 
came visible. They were white, very, very white, 
for they were completely covered with snow. We 
now began to worry about the snow covered passes 
through which we must drive. 

The day had grown cold and the wind howled. 
It was like a winter's day and there was no town 
between Winslow and Flagstaff. We had to keep 
moving. 



74 Diary of a Motor Journey 

As we reached the mountain passes which we had 
been informed were snow covered, slippery and 
dangerous, we found our fears were unnecessary. 
The snow had nearly all melted and although it had 
left the roads very muddy, they were passable. 

About 5 o'clock we saw the cheerful lights of 
Flagstaff, and pulled up at the Commercial Hotel 
at 5:30, where we spent the night. 

Flagstaff is an interesting town. It is a tourists' 
headquarters, a base from which they conduct their 
operations. It is located in the center of Nature's 
Wonderland and nestles in the foothills of the San 
Francisco peaks which are covered with snow for 
nine months of the year. Located near here are 
prehistoric cliff dwellings in Walnut Canyon. A pet- 
rified forest of Norfolk Island pine (now extinct) 
is close by. Sunset Mountain, which at any hour of 
the day is always flooded with light, is a brilliant 
sight. This effect of everlasting sunshine is caused 
by the oxidation of the iron particles in the rock on 
the mountain side. 

The lava beds are another attraction, located in 
the crest of Sunset Mountain. At the base are huge 
caves with walls of solid ice that stand the year 
round. The Painted Desert is another wonder, and 
is composed of patches of color, ten, twenty, and up 
to fifty miles square, blue here, yellow there, with 
now and then a patch of red and other colors. This 
area of strange colorings has been called, "Nature's 
Palette." 



Diary of a Motor Journey 75 




SOME of the SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS 



76 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



Meteorite Mountain, formed of a huge meteor 
which sometime fell here, is still another wonder. 
The Grand Falls of the Colorado are surpassingly 
beautiful. Natural Bridge, Montezuma Well and 
Castle, Montezuma Lodge, The Bottomless Pit and 
numerous other places of interest are within a short 
radius. The Hopi and Navajo Indian Reservations 
are located near Flagstaff, and the greatest wonder 
of the world, the Grand Canyon, is only eighty 
miles away. 




^^■ 



THE SEA GULL AND PELICAN BRIGADE INFORMED US 
WE WERE NEARING THE OCEAN; ALSO THAT THEY WERE 
HUNGRY 



Diary of a Motor Journey 17 

Ashfork, Arizona, Tuesday evening, 
October 25, 1921. 

We left Flagstaff at 10:30 this morning, after 
having transmission, etc., filled with grease. On ac- 
count of the high altitude and the snow covered 
mountains the atmosphere was very chilly and the 
air was raw in town. The road led immediately 
into the deep valleys between the snow mantled 
hills but the roads were bare except in shady places. 
The pass was winding and for the first few miles 
was hard surfaced and good traveling. We were 
not alone, for there were many late starters along 
with us. There were all kinds of cars pushing 
westward in that gigantic caravan which ever keeps 
moving across the continent. Every car was loaded 
with baggage, the running board and space be- 
hind reserved for the spare tires being utilized in 
many cases. All were friendly, a sort of moving 
community. 

A different panoramic view kept unfolding at 
every turn of the road. About fifteen miles out we 
ran into trouble. Reaching the top of a short but 
steep grade, we saw scattered along the highway 
ahead of us, several cars in strange positions. One 
was turned sideways, half off the road ; another was 
fifteen feet down a muddy embankment. As we 
moved down the hill we soon learned the reason 
for our wheels sank into the soft, slippery mud and 
we started to skid and slide. The melting snow and 



78 Diary of a Motor Journey 

the water running down from the mountains had 
made the road a veritable sea of mud in which the 
cars were wallowing. 

We plunged and lurched, and went skidding and 
careening to the bottom. Both back wheels were 
in one rut aTnd the front ones in the other and we 
slid sideways some of the way down. We passed 
the car in the ditch. It was a Ford. The occupant 
said it was nothing, just a little accidental skid off 
the road. We passed several others on the way 
down, stuck fast in the mud, the drivers digging 
themselves out. We plowed through and were the 
first to get past this bad spot. Luckily the road was 
wide here and we had plenty of room to pass. 
Looking back we saw at least twenty cars behind us. 

From this point the road improved and we made 
a quick run into Williams, where we stopped at 
Fred Harvey's for lunch. In answer to our inquiry 
regarding the road to Ashfork, the news agent said, 
"The road from here on is the worst in the coun- 
try." This did not seem very encouraging, but we 
thought he might be plugging for the Santa Fe 
Railway, so we smiled, thinking it a good joke. It 
was no joke, however, for the road zvas the worst 
in the country. 

Several miles out of Williams we saw a line of 
cars about a mile ahead which reminded us of 
Michigan Avenue during the evening rush hour. A 
string of cars a quarter of a mile long were lined 
up behind each other. The on-coming cars stopped 



Diary of a Motor Journey 79 

one by one as they reached the line. We joined 
them and I got out to investigate. It was a detour 
down the mountain side and through a valley. The 
highway was closed as roadwork was in progress. 
The detour was over ground that was rougher than 
I had ever seen automobiles run over before. It 
was muddy; it was rocky; it slanted first on one 
side and then on the other. It was narrow ; it was 
terrible, the worst detour it had ever been my loV 
to encounter. And here was an army of motorists 
waiting patiently at the top. 

A traffic officer was stationed on the brow of the 
mountain awaiting the signal from the traffic officer 
on the mountain at the other end of the detour to 
start the cars going. All cars headed westward had 
to wait for a single car coming across the detour 
from the west. We could see it a mile down in the 
valley being tossed around like a ship on an angry 
sea. After waiting for half an hour the westward 
traffic was started, and we crawled down over 
stones, mud and bumps, at a speed not exceeding a 
mile an hour. In the train of cars many springs 
and axles were snapped and broken. 

We slid down with the rest of the bunch, the 
running board at times keeping the car from sink- 
ing entirely into the mire. It was a strained and 
severely shaken lot of cars that emerged from that 
memorable detour and we did not find the roads all 
the way to Ashfork in much better condition. I 



80 Diary of a Motor Journey 

should think it would be a hard matter to explain 
the reason for such roads. 

We arrived at the Escalante Hotel at 4 o'clock. 
It is remarkable to find such a luxurious hotel with 
every city accommodation and service in this out- 
post of human occupation. It is operated by the 
Fred Harvey System. 

The day's run has been only 55 miles. 



Kingman, Arizona, Wednesday evening, 
October 26, 1921. 

We arrived at Kingman at 4:30, Coast time, but 
it was 5 :30 by our watches. Time changes again 
here, so we set our watches back an hour. 

We left Ashfork this morning at 9:30 and the 
roads today led through valley and canyon. We 
stopped at Seligman, 20 miles out, for lunch. From 
there on we found excellent roads and made a quick 
hundred mile run into Kingman, where we are stay- 
ing tonight in this mining center. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



81 




EL GARCES HOTEL AT NEEDLES, CALIFORNL\ 



Needles, California, Thursday evening, 
October 27, 1921. 

At last we are in the Golden State of California. 
We left Kingman this morning at 8:45, arriving 
here at noon. Needles is situated on the edge of 
the Mojave desert, and we made a short run of only 
67 miles today, as we did not wish to venture into 
the desert wastes too late in the afternoon. In the 
summer, however, many tourists make the desert 
run at night to avoid the burning heat of the day. 
We preferred to start in the morning and cross in 
broad daylight. We intend to start early and make 
the run of 170 miles without stop. 



82 Diary of a Motor Journey 




A GIANT CACTUS ON THE MOJAVE DESERT 



Diary of a Motor Journey 83 

On leaving Kingman this morning the road began 
to ascend through the mountains, rising continu- 
ously. The mountain pass proved to be a hard 
climb. This grade continued for several miles be- 
fore we reached the crest. The descent was gradual 
and extended for many miles through a mining 
region. In the mountains we passed one abandoned 
gold mine, the mill buildings and cottages covering 
many acres. But all were empty, save one or two 
of the cottages. A few miles further on we passed 
a sign which stated, "You are now entering the 
district of the greatest undevelopd gold mines in 
America." 

We continued in the mining country, over moun- 
tain passes with sharp curves and steep grades, for 
about thirty miles, passing through Oatman, a great 
mining center. Coming down from the mountains 
the road led over a rolling, rocky country, with 
much sage brush, sand and cactus. All the stones 
were black on top as though they had been painted. 
The highway skirted the Colorado River for many 
miles, to the point where we crossed the state line 
into California. We drove into Needles shortly 
after crossing the river, and housed at the Garges 
Hotel, also run by Fred Harvey. Many cross coun- 
try motorists are in Needles. They are distinguish- 
able anywhere. For most part both male and female 
are dressed in Khaki knickerbockers. One meets 
them on the streets and in the stores. They spend 



84 Diary of a Motor Journey 

their money freely, and are welcomed in every ham- 
let, town and city along the way. 

Needles is picturesque and fascinating. It is a 
town of palm trees and flowers. It looks like a 
colorful background set for a musical extrava- 
ganza. Even the mountains which surround the 
town look as if they had been painted on an expan- 
sive drop curtain. Possibly this illusion is caused 
by the clearness of the atmosphere. Anyhow, the 
scene from our room in El Garges Hotel is one of 
artistic beauty. Through the French doors which 
open on to a large balcony with iron railings, we 
can see immense tropical palms, ten to fifteen feet 
high, gently waving in the hotel grounds. Past 
them, and behind the red roofs of the town, are the 
blue and purple mountains against a cerulean sky. 
Around the hotel grounds are groups of picturesque 
and gaudy Indians, selling their trinkets, their cos- 
tumes of brilliant hues adding rich color to the 
scene. We have left a call for 5 :30 in the morn- 
ing, as we wish to get an early start across the great 
Mojave. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



85 




CASA DEL DESIERTO (HOUSE OF THE DESERT), HARVEY 
HOTEL IN THE MOJAVE DESERT AT BARSTOW, CALIF. 



Barstow, California, Friday evening, 
October 28, 1921. 

We drove out of Needles at 7:30 this morning, 
entering the Mojave desert immediately. For the 
first seventy miles the going was excellent, the road 
was smooth and fast. After passing Amboy, a 
desert hamlet, it became rough in places, and the 
desert winds had drifted sands across it in many 
places. We had read in the papers, some months 
ago, of a motorist who ran out of water while 
crossing this desert. He left his wife and family 



86 Diary of a Motor Journey 

of three children in the car while he started out in 
search, and two days later was found dead within 
200 feet of a water hole. His wife and children 
were found in a famished condition, having had 
nothing to eat or drink all this time. The story- 
made us cautious, so we stocked up with an abun- 
dant supply of both food and water. This precau- 
tion, however, was entirely unnecessary, as we 
found stores and gasoline stations every 20 miles 
or so across the desert. 

Most motorists carry canvas waterbags strapped 
to the car. We carried a canteen of water, but had 
no occasion to use it. There is no reason for alarm 
at crossing the desert, for the road is fair. We 
reached Barstow at 4:15 in the afternoon, and the 
speedometer showed that we had run 166 miles 
since morning. We are staying tonight at the Casa 
del Deserto (House of the Desert), another Harvey 
hotel, located on the desert sands in Barstow. It 
is a specimen of Spanish architecture built of bricks, 
and covers an area equal to several city blocks. The 
service and accommodations are up to the best city 
standards. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 87 




HOLLYWOOD 



88 



Diary of a Motor Journey 




/2/ 










LOS ANGELES AT SEVENTH AND BROADWA\ 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



89 



f 



''^mR. 



^"tniK^;, ^^^^mM£^^^:^ 




THE BATHING BEACH AT THE OCEAN FRONT, VENICE, 
CALIF., ON AN OCTOBER DAY BESIDE A SUMMER SEA 



Ocean Front, Venice, California, Saturday evening, 
October 29, 1921. 

We reached the end of our semi-continental run 
this evening at six o'clock, and are safely ensconsed 
in our bungalow on the Ocean Front. We drove 
172 miles today, and reached Venice in time to see 
the sunset on the Pacific. The glittering reflections 
of the red ball of fire danced on the waves right in 
to the breakers. 

We left Barstow at 7:15 this morning over good 
roads. At noon we halted in San Bernardino for 
lunch. Fifty-five miles out from San B'doo we 
reached the summit of Cajon Pass. From that point 



90 Diary of a Motor Journey 

we found paved roads all the way into Venice, but 
we moved along within speed limit. The descent 
from Cajon Pass was gradual, with sharp turns and 
windings for a distance of about 14 miles. The 
scenes changed abruptly at every turn. Cactus and 
sage brush were left behind, and in their place we 
saw streets lined with blooming roses, palm trees 
and tropical vegetation everywhere. The fragrance 
of flowers was in the air; the roadway was flanked 
with towering trees. It seemed as if we had 
dropped into another world. The barren desert and 
rolling prairies seemed so far away. 

We made a quick run through Pasadena and Los 
Angeles, and headed towards the ocean over Sun- 
set Boulevard, passing through Hollywood and 
Beverly Hills. At Santa Monica we heard the first 
boom of the mighty Pacific, and felt a wave of re- 
freshing salt breeze. We reached the bungalow just 
as the sun was sinking into the sea, and the air was 
balmy, just like June in Chicago. 

We had reached our journey's end. 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



91 




ON THIS OCTOBER SATURDAY, THE LAST DAY OF OUR 
RUN, IN PASSING THRU SAN BERNARDINO, WE NOTICED 
THE CALIFORNIANS IN SUMMER ATTIRE IN THEIR GARDENS 
CULTIVATING THE FLOvVERS WHICH WERE IN BLOOM IN 
GREAT PROFUSION IN MANY BRILLIANT VARIEGATED 
COLORS. 



92 



Diary of a Motor Journey 










^y^tm^ 




f*(^ 



THIS MAP AND THE ONE ON THE ACCOMPANYING PAGE 
SHOW THE ROUTE AND THE OVERNIGHT STOPS. FROM 
CHICAGO TO TRINIDAD WAS MOSTLY LEVEL ROLLING LAND. 
FROM THE ILLUSTRATION IT MAY BE SEEN THAT FROM 
TRINIDAD TO LOS ANGELES IS MOUNTANOUS COUNTRY. 



Los Angeles, Cal., 
January, 1922. 

A Fezv Technical Sttggestions by the Chicago 
Motor Club — 

The following suggestions on our car by the 
Chicago Motor Club before starting on the trip, 
were found valuable : 

Go over the car carefully. Grind all valves, clean 
out all carbon, tighten up all bearings, setting up 
every nut and bolt. Put on a new fan belt. Clean 
the radiator with a saturate solution of washing 
soda. Examine the generator and starter to know 
that they are clean and functioning. Drain the 
crank case and start with fresh oil. Go over the 
wiring system to see that there are no breaks. Put 
in new plugs and fuses. Clean and adjust the 
breaker points. Install new light bulbs and carry 



Diary of a Motor Journey 93 




.^-^^^ / 






an extra set of both fuses and bulbs of the kind and 
capacity your car requires. Charge the battery and 
fill with distilled water, then have it tested. Make 
sure that the switch and ammeter are working 
surely and that all connections are clean and tight. 

The transmission should be drained, washed with 
kerosene and filled with fresh lubricant, and do the 
same with the differential. See that the clutch 
is clean, adjusted, and working smoothly. Brake 
bands should be renewed. This is important as 
there are many steep grades. If there is a backlash 
in the system have it removed. Have double check 
leaves on each front and rear spring. This pre- 
vents rebound and broken springs. Clean and 
graphite springs. Every 800 miles all oil should 
be drained out and shot with an oil gun on springs, 
shackle bolts, steering parts, etc. Adjust all bear- 
ings, clean them and pack with fresh grease. 

Put a good leather dressing on the top and on all 
leather upholstery. Clean the body and add a good 
body polish to protect it from alkali dust. Rig over 
the filler cap a piece of ordinary wire screen, bulged 
up to give plenty of air space, and over this place 



94 



Diary of a Motor Journey 



cheese cloth. This will catch the dust and prevent 
trouble with the vacuum tank and carburetor. 

Start out with good tires and casings, carrying 
two extra ones. Clean and graphite the rims. If 
wire wheels are used have them trued up and 
enamelled. Carry five or six extra spokes for 




ON THE BEACH AT VENICE, CALIFORNIA 



Diary of a Motor Journey 95 

emergency. Carry a folding spade and a tow line. 
If you heed these suggestions your journey will be 
more comfortable and you will be saved much 
trouble. 



II 




